He was not at all anxious to
know her name, yet, knowing it now, it seemed to suggest that there was
nothing more to say. He would, of course, have preferred to ask her
if she had read the poetry about the Underbrush, and if she knew the
poetess, and what she thought of it; but the fact that she appeared
to be an "eddicated" woman made him sensitive of displaying technical
ignorance in his manner of talking about it. She might ask him if it was
"subjective" or "objective"--two words he had heard used at the Debating
Society at Mendocino on the question, "Is poetry morally beneficial?"
For a few moments he was silent. But presently she took the initiative
in conversation, at first slowly and abstractedly, and then, as if
appreciating his sympathetic reticence, or mayhap finding some relief
in monotonous expression, talked mechanically, deliberately, but
unostentatiously about herself. So colorless was her intonation that at
times it did not seem as if she was talking to him, but repeating some
conversation she had held with another.
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